


Echoes of Lost Hearts

by AquaJasmine23



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaJasmine23/pseuds/AquaJasmine23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumplestiltskin confesses a dark, dark secret to Belle right before the big moment. For once, he's doing the right thing. Spoilers up to the season 3 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes of Lost Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> one-shot about the famous Rumbelle wedding night. This isn't going to happen in season four so technically it’s AU or alternate ending… or something. I really hope you enjoy this because this is my first time writing smut so I’m quite nervous about it.  
> Thank you to Laikin394 (for all the fun I had reading your smut fics, hehe) and Emilie Brown (for the recommendations) and the encouragement you gave me to write this. I’ve been trying to write this for over a week and it’s finally done. Woo hoo! 
> 
> Quotes that inspired this fanfic:  
> “I love you because you are cruel, and kind, and alive.” -Cruel Beauty  
> “You are never safe with me.” -Cruel Beauty  
> “Knowing the truth is not always a kindness.” -Cruel Beauty  
> “I didn't need you. I picked you. And then you picked me back.” -Paper Towns  
> 

“We’re married,” Belle said, sounding quite shocked. 

Rumplestiltskin didn't blame his wife. It was a dizzying sensation to so much as think of her as such; Dove driving them home in his Cadillac, the newly married couple snuggled in the backseat, only served to make it both more real and more unreal. “We’re married,” he agreed. Honestly, he was a bit surprised the Charmings hadn't come running to him about some issue or other and spoiled the whole event. They had interrupted almost everything else.

She looked up at him then, her eyes like liquid crystals, flawlessly blue. Such innocence, and such brilliance. It was beyond him. She was like an angel- a fallen angel, perhaps, to be consorting with the Dark One, but no less beautiful for it. She had ridden herself of the cream white overcoat and hat she’d worn during the ceremony once they had gotten into the Cadillac, and he had had to grit his teeth to the point where his jaw was starting to ache and force himself to think of Snow White and Prince Charming’s nauseatingly repetitive catch phrase. 

Suits, he thought, were nearly as constricting and uncomfortable as leather in that they both did not allow him to get hard, which was an often occurrence around Belle, at least without experiencing near- pain.

Belle wore a white dress that flowed to her knees, shimmery and lacy, roses etched on the design in beautiful swirling patterns. The neckline swept lower than he could handle without clenching every muscle in his body in an attempt to not lose his sanity, and her long, long creamy legs didn't help the issue, especially considering the gold satin stilettos on her dainty feet. 

She was _breathtaking_ , a goddess in human form, his own personal Aphrodite. 

It was so hard not to want to slide to his knees and worship her for all eternity, to acknowledge her beauty forevermore, to prostrate himself at her feet for her approval. She was temptation, Belle was, but the most lovely of sins. She wasn't the sin, however; she could never be. It was his sin, his burden

to bear, his darkness consciously infiltrating her perfect light.             

But she had chosen him. And he had accepted that.                             

Impossible, it was, to be around her, when he had betrayed her in the most despicable way possible, manipulation at its worst even for him. He had proposed to her, offered his trust, with a fake dagger. And why? So he could go… and take revenge on the witch who had tormented him and, more importantly, taken Bae from him forever. Although technically it was the Saviour who had removed Bae from his protection, he could never blame her, for she loved him too, and they were shared in that private grief. No one else could understand.                          

Although he despised himself for doing that to Belle, she had made it quite clear that she didn't want Zelena to die by his hand. He was at a mental crossfire of two equally strengthened sides; he resented her attempt to curb his vengeance, but couldn't resent her for it, because she was all that spoke against darkness and murder, a being of light other than her love for the darkest soul in all the realms.         

Had Zelena only tormented him, he would've let her live on in her own agony, losing being as punishing as death in her eyes. Regina was acting infuriatingly sanctimonious, preaching heroism and "heroes don't kill" bullshit, but she wasn't about to be reckless, he knew. She wouldn't have been careless with Zelena.

Rumplestiltskin knew, though, that for someone like Zelena, redemption was truly impossible. Someone who prided winning and control over love could not give themselves to light- ever- and even he had never been like that. The Blue Fairy had said one sentence in her existence that he agreed with, and that was that Baelfire was his light and love, who kept him grounded and human. He had put Bae before all else, even a chance at real, pure True Love with the most beautiful soul he had ever known.   

But Zelena had not limited his torment to himself alone. She had brought the two people in the world who he loved into the game, and ruined everything, and then taunted him about it. She had caused Bae's _death_  and tried thrice to kill or harm Belle too. There was no forgiveness, no mercy. It would be like - for Regina- if Zelena had killed Henry and tried to kill Robin three times. Regina, redeemed or not, would never have let her live, had it been Henry in the game Zelena was controlling.

Rumplestiltskin prided himself on his control, and therefore had quite a lot of it, but it was immensely hard to not unleash the full tidal wave of his wrath when the witch had murdered his son - the reason for the Dark Curse- and tried to kill his love _and_  tried to have him as her own. It was far worse than even Cora had done at her own worst, and that was a rather tremendous list of crimes.                

He was protective of his family. More than that, he would kill for them. And it wasn't as if Zelena had been remorseful. It was unfair to try and stop him, to put him back on collar and leash like the wicked witch had done for over a year, from having his rightful vengeance. Regina's words rang in his head. " _Heroes don't kill. How many times have we killed to get what we want_?"               

Rumplestiltskin's purpose had always been to get his son back. And he had never defined himself as a hero- Regina had herself, but that gave her no right to control him. How long would she have tortured her green sister if Zelena had killed Henry rather than Bae? 

It was almost hard to look at her, in that way it had been when his son was in his mind, too many voices screaming madness in his head. _Tell her_ and _don’t you dare tell her_. _It’s all my fault_ and _it wasn’t my fucking fault_.

But he looked at her anyway.

As if it had a mind of its own, his hand drifted up to cradle her cheek. She leaned into his touch, burrowing further into his side; they had forgone seat belts. What was the point when he had magic and wasn't even driving?

“I love you, Belle,” he said, so quietly it seemed like a confession. However conflicted he was about all the other matters, that was his absolute truth, and it always would be. No matter what, he knew he loved Belle.

She leaned closer to him, her sweet breath ghosting across his lips and making him shiver, in no way from the cold that he no longer felt. “I love you too.” His lovely angel pressed a kiss to his mouth that quickly turned heated, him hauling her onto his lap so he could kiss her more deeply, her hands tangling in his hair as their tongues battled for dominance. She pulled at his hair, trying to get him closer, the pain sharpening the pleasure.

He only broke away when there was a tap that alerted him to the existence of a world away from kissing Belle. Dove was looking at him, his face impassive as always, and opened the door to let Rumplestiltskin and Belle out of the Cadillac. They stepped out together, her on his arm, and he smiled quickly at their temporary driver before walking to the door of his _salmon_ \- coloured Victorian (he was still pissed at Regina for that particular part of the curse) and unlocking it.

Before she could protest, he swooped her up in the typical newlyweds hold, and by the Gods her smile was beautiful. If all he ever did for his entire life was watch her smile like that, he would be a happy man. He thanked the fact that his leg was healed, twisting scars being the only reminder of a decision that had simultaneously ruined and saved his life.

She curled against him as he carried her up the stairs to the master bedroom, _their_ bedroom now, and he set her down, the motion reminding them both of another time and place when he had done the same thing, albeit in a much different circumstance.

Kissing him quickly, she went into the adjoining bathroom with the bag that Dove had dropped off earlier to prepare. He hastily changed into slightly more relaxed attire and settled to lounge on the bed, waiting for his love.

 

When Belle emerged from the bathroom, he could not stop himself from gasping. She was draped in a breathtaking blue and gold silk negligee, with a softly traced design on the bust, her face glowing with joy and radiance. Her hair flowed effortlessly down her back in soft auburn curls. “ _Belle_ ,” he whispered, almost reverently. “Oh, Belle.” Such perfection, such beauty, for the monster who had lied to her so callously. 

He wore a starched-white button down, casual for him, and the black suit pants from the ceremony. Casual, disposable, easy to get rid of, next to her. He smiled, self- deprecatingly.

She walked over to the enormous bed and climbed on, seeming to sink into the sea of blue, white, and gold silk as she clambered to his semi- relaxed position against the headboard. Without a second thought he hauled her into his arms and inhaled the sweet rose-petals scent of her silky hair.

She wrapped her arms around him, content to stay in his embrace for a while.

Moments later, Rumplestiltskin could not keep himself from whispering, “I’m sorry, Belle.” _This is it_ , he thought, _you must tell her the truth. Now._

Cowardice swarmed him as she replied, voice soft, “For what, Rumple?”

He had to fight the darkness, the fear, and oh did he try. He had to. In the end, she would be better without him, without his evil tainting her good and light, and _he had to tell her the fucking truth_.

The words that came out of his mouth were not his own; it was the Dark One that spoke as the Spinner clawed at the cage, bound with his own heart, screaming protest and agony. “You are too good for me, and now you are chained to the beast. And I’ll never be able to let you go.” 

True, true, not true. Rumplestiltskin would let her go. The Dark One had other plans.

“No,” she denied, her honestly gleaming in those cerulean eyes that were like a fist to his gut, weakening him, turning him into a hill of bones for her to stand atop. “Never chained. You are not too good for me, Rumple, because someone too good would never doubt like this. And I don’t ever _want_ you to let me go.”

He was sure she must have noticed the sudden veer from the happiness that had been exuding from his every pore during the ceremony to the bleak self-disparaging expression he had on now. Was there no way to make her see that she was above him, above all? 

“Belle, please, you must realize-” he began.

It was, of course, pointless. “There is _nothing_ to realize,” she interrupted sharply, “… because I love you, Rumple. All of you… even the parts that belong to the darkness.”

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. He could not do this now, now he’d brought up another reason he was sorry, one almost as painful as the lying game he was playing against himself. 

Belle lifted her head away from its rested position against his chest and raised a hand to stroke his cheek again, smiling when he leaned into her touch like in the car and always. “Do you know why I love you?” she asked.

“I cannot fathom how, let alone why,” he answered, truthfully. He knew she loved him, knew because it was Belle and she didn't lie and he could _see_ the bloody emotions run across her face and cloud her lovely eyes, and her vows were proof enough, but he still did not truly know _why_.

“Before I knew you I was nearly as lost as you were,” she whispered, her voice ragged. “I knew nothing of love, of comfort; all of that disappeared when my mother died. When you came it was like someone lit the candles representing my life aflame, pulling me away from the darkness… ironically, into the Dark Castle. I knew from the very moment when I chipped our cup that you were not the monster you were portrayed as, that there was love in your heart and you had lost it and that was why you appeared so… cold and hard.”

 _Hard_. Indeed, he was, and the mere word out of her mouth made him twitch. Not cold, not now and possibly not ever, her warmth being like the sun. He could only imagine being surrounded by her heat.

“You were like a scroll in runic language,” she went on softly. “Nearly impossible to translate, but captivating, and in a dark way. Intriguing. A… mystery to be uncovered.”

How could he have this beauty? He didn't deserve her, never had and never would, not even when he gave his life to defeat Pan.

“And I don’t want you to tell me why you love me,” Belle continued, and he opened his mouth only to have her rest a finger on his lips, effectively shutting him up, “because I know. I _know_ , Rum, and I hate how you think you have to prove something to me. I trust you. I love you. I’m not going anywhere… I promise.”

It was like glass shards, breaking glass, digging into his heart, new wounds and new pain blooming with every spoken word, every _undeserved_ word. He wasn't worthy of her trust. He was a liar, a bastard, a manipulator.

“Oh, Belle,” he murmured, and then it was decided, he was decided, and he pulled her flush against him, feeling her heat as acutely as if there were no barriers between them. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Her lips crashed down against his, and he lost himself in her taste, shimmering and bright like the sun and stars and wonderfully appealing, tantalizing, tempting. Her lips parted easily under the pressure of his own, his tongue delving into the sweet heaven of her mouth. She clawed at the buttons of his shirt, somehow succeeding in ripping it away, and he was grateful, the heat almost overwhelming. He couldn't care about the shirt. It was a shirt. She was _Belle_.

The burning feeling expanded, blood rushing to his groin as she leaned back to pull her nightgown over her head, his hands aiding her and lingering as they slid up her creamy legs and the curve of her perfect breasts. Beneath it all she only wore sapphire blue lingerie, all lace, from the boutique Ruby frequented. He would have to somehow thank the werewolf. Maybe he could nudge the besotted cricket in her direction.

Rumplestiltskin was captivated hopelessly by her beauty, her fragile innocence, and the fact that he could clearly see the swell of her breasts and their pointed rose-pink peaks, the bra being all but see-through. He had never been more grateful for his immensely attuned senses as he inhaled the scent of her desire.

He kissed her this time, her mouth melding perfectly to his own like they had been shaped for one another, and unclasped the useless bra. It fell to the floor along with his jaw. “You’re so beautiful.”

She flushed, her modesty clearly making her want to wrap her arms around her chest, but he gently held her hands away, his gaze sweeping over her entire form.

Hesitantly, she reached to pull off his trousers. He kicked them away from the bed and to the floor, shame threatening to overtake him as her eyes were drawn to his obvious arousal. He had to do this right, he had to please her, he couldn't act like a randy teenager and come before her. He had to draw out her pleasure.

Rumplestiltskin’s hands flew to her waist and pulled down her panties, kneeling as he did, something he was capable of doing now that his knee was no longer mangled and horrifying. 

“Gods, Belle, you’re _soaked_ ,” he breathed, his voice husky even to his own ears. He was still leaning against the headboard, so in a flash he turned her around so it was her pressed up against the bed and him in front of her. Cautiously he slipped a hand between her thighs; she blushed again, but smiled too, and let him.

She was actually wet for him, something no one could fake, proof of her real desire. His finger brushed against her folds, and then parted them. She gasped, arching into his hand wantonly, and he loved it, the sensations nearly overriding the guilt. 

Belle moved against him, moaning and biting her lip as he bent to kiss her neck, and then sighing as he finally slipped a finger into her.

The heat was almost overwhelming, wrapped around his finger in such a manner, and the love in her eyes hurt as much. 

Slowly he inserted a second finger- she was so _tight_ , and it was unbelievable- and she whimpered in pleasure and need, arching even more. He drifted his thumb across her clit; she hissed and bucked her hips, and all it took was him curling his fingers and she came, her face like a goddess more than ever, the ecstasy overtaking her.

It was almost like a dream and a nightmare balled into one as she extended a hand to remove his boxers, revealing his throbbing cock to her dark eyes, and pulled him over her so he was poised at her entrance.

 _Shit_.

“Please, Rumple,” Belle begged, her tone soft and happy. “I need you.”

_She’s innocent. You don’t deserve her. You will break her. You betrayed her. You lied to her._

His tip brushed her folds, and he had to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood to distract himself. “Are you sure?”

He wasn’t.

“Yes, Rumple… _please._ ” She was glowing, almost, her aura sharpened and pleasured. 

He was about a second away from throwing everything to hell and thrusting into her hard enough to make her come again when he remembered how hurt she had been when he had broken his promise to not kill Regina.

And Regina hadn't died.

“Stop,” he said, self-disparagingly, and pushed away from her, waving his hand and covering her in her fallen nightgown, his trousers covering him again.

The hurt on her face was instantaneous, enough to make him almost dismiss his guilt, but he had to not be a coward. For Belle. For Bae.

“I killed her,” he whispered.

Shock exploded on her face. “What do you mean?” 

Now she would hate him, like she should have years ago. “I gave you a false dagger-” That was, absolutely, the worst part to admit “- and I went to Zelena’s jail cell and I killed her.”

Belle was crying, sobbing wildly, like her world had been shattered. And if he could face it, it had. He had broken her.

“You proposed to me with a _fake_? You tricked me the whole time?” she wailed, every tear like a deserved knife in his heart.

He nodded, too choked to speak. “I won’t give you excuses, Belle, you know why I did it. I’m _sorry_ , Belle, but _Bae was my son_. I had to avenge him. That’s not an excuse, I know. And I know you can never forgive me.” It was so hard to speak when every word was as if the world was ripping him to shreds, as if Cora was crushing his black heart. “You’re free to leave, of course, our marriage doesn't bind you. I release you forever. No price, no magic, no stipulations. I love you too much to keep you tied to a monster. You’ve always been so much more than me, than anyone, and I hope you can find that. Take anything you want with you. What was mine is yours.”

She didn't speak, her eyes seeming to overflow with tears. 

And he couldn't speak anymore. It was hard enough to watch her cry.

“This isn't because I’m not enough?” she choked out.

Hatred for himself overrode everything. “ _No_. Never. Vengeance, not you. Avenging Bae.” How could she _think_ that?

“Do you still love me?” she went on, still crying. 

“More than anyone I ever have save Bae. You are my life now.”

Belle shook like a leaf in the wind. “Why didn't you _tell me_? I would've understood, but why keep the dagger from me?”

“The dagger is a dark magic in itself,” he explained, wondering how he was so composed, how he could answer without sobbing himself. “It will darken your soul and heart; that is the price of controlling the Dark One.”

Now she really looked shocked, her eyes widening, the tears halting for a moment. “You kept it from me… to protect my heart?” she whispered.

Rumplestiltskin nodded again, a tear slipping from his eye. “I should've told you.”

Belle breathed out, seeming to relax a bit more, and smiled. Smiled. In the face of his betrayal, of her heartbreak, she _smiled_. Why?

“I understand why you felt you had to kill her,” Belle told him softly, leaning away from the headboard. “I still love you… I’m not letting you go again, Rumple. I’m hurt, yes, but we can get past this. I still believe you’re a good man.”

“You’re the only one who ever has.” His mind was a mantra of _what_ , unbelieving that she could forgive him. 

“I still know that you love me, and I forgive you,” she continued gently, her hand resting on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, unable to help himself.

“So for tonight, let’s leave all that behind. We can talk tomorrow, go see the Charmings, maybe Regina. For tonight… I want you.”

Rumplestiltskin couldn't comprehend, really, but he got the gist of the message.

Their lips met in a kiss born of True Love, and wound into an embrace, their clothes falling to the floor once more.


End file.
